A kiss before dying
by Sarahbookjunkie
Summary: Picking up where 'Salvation' left off, a Clois story set at the end of season 9.


"Please say something. Anything."

_I love you._

He reached out to take the Book of Rao, and couldn't resist covering her hand with his. Was this the last time he would ever see her? He had accepted what he needed to do, but saying goodbye to her was hard. The thought of leaving her behind and never seeing her again made his throat constrict. She was everything to him. Could he really leave without….?

Making a decision, he tightened his grip on her hand and spun her round to face him. Her eyes were closed, determined not to know who he was, no matter how much she wanted to. She truly was amazing.

_I love you._

He leaned in and kissed her, wrapping one arm round her waist and pulling her closer, cradling her cheek with his free hand. He wanted to stay; he wanted to stay with _her_. Could she tell it was him? He wanted her to know so badly, despite all the reasons why he couldn't tell her – how could he hurt her, she who meant so much to him?

He was breathless, intoxicated by the taste of her lips, the feel of her body wrapped up in his, her scent. He tilted his head and deepened the kiss, holding onto her as if his life depended on it. It did - when he left, he wouldn't be Clark any more. He was never more himself than when he was with her, and he had to leave that behind. Too soon, he stopped, kissing her one last time before opening his eyes to memorise her face, the face that was constantly in his thoughts. The very idea of leaving her was causing him physical pain, and he considered kissing her again, but he knew he wouldn't leave if he did.

_I love you._

In a heartbeat, he was gone.

* * *

She was dizzy. Dizzy from the most heart-stopping kiss she had ever been given, and from the knowledge that suddenly made everything clear. Unsteady steps took her out of the darkness of the alley as one thought crowded out everything else, one undeniable truth bubbling to her lips.

"Clark."

Clark was the Blur. Her Smallville, the man to whom she had given her heart so completely that there would never be anyone else, was the Blur. All those times she had spoken to him, it had been Clark. Suddenly she understood so many things at once that it was bewildering. The miraculous saves had been Clark. The loneliness she had heard in his voice hurt her more because it was Clark. He had split himself in two, but managed to give both halves of himself to _her_. She remembered that night on the roof, when he had asked if he was enough, and when she didn't answer he had said it was alright, it wasn't fair to ask that of her. He had wanted to be enough for her – just Clark, not as anyone else, and her heart broke when she realised that he thought he wasn't enough for her. Didn't he know that he _was_?

She wondered if he'd always lived like this, hiding. His brooding made a lot more sense; the over-protectiveness of the Kent's had a purpose; Chloe's devotion wasn't just to her best friend.

Clark was the Blur. So many little things fell into place, and everything seemed easier. The joy and hope and wonder that she felt nearly knocked her over; maybe deep down she had known, or suspected, but being told the truth was different. Clark had told her, and told her with a kiss. She frowned, as something tugging at the edge of her mind made itself heard.

He had told her with a kiss….

…that felt like goodbye.

* * *

The pain ripping through his gut was agonising, and he could feel himself fall backwards. Zod stared down at him in triumph, to all intents and purposes the victor of the fight. He willed his plan to work, and as he fell further, golden light surrounded the rooftop. Zod's face darkened, realising what he had done, and rage overtook him as he disappeared into the sky. It was done: Zod was saved, as his father had asked him to do, and the threat to the world was gone.

He gave in to the pain and then he was falling, falling, falling, faster than the raindrops that swirled around him.

* * *

She was worried for him: what did he need the Book of Rao for, and why was her gut telling her that something was wrong? It was something to do with Zod, but what? She picked up her purse and walked out onto the street. How was she going to find him? With his… abilities? was that the right word? he could be anywhere. A flash of light caught her eye, a huge beam shooting up into the sky, and instinctively she knew that was where Clark would be.

She ran in the direction of the light and stopped down the street from it when she saw something fall. Blinking against the rain she could make out a figure, hurtling towards the ground, some sort of blue light around it. A flash of red startled her and before she realised it, a man was lowering the limp figure to the ground, supporting it as best he could.

Her heart stopped. It was Clark, bleeding, a dagger in his gut.

Not Clark. Please, not Clark. Even in the dark and the rain and the worry, she recognised the man kneeling beside him. It was John Jones, Clark's friend in the Metropolis PD. And he could fly? It didn't matter – Clark was hurt, and the only thing she could do was break into a run, calling his name, and skid to a halt beside him. His chest was heaving and he was in a lot of pain, but he was on his knees now, hunched over and pale-looking. His eyes weren't focusing on anything in particular until she cupped his face in her hands and lifted it. His lips curled into the most dazzling smile that she had ever seen and she couldn't help returning it. "Lois" he breathed before coughing and almost choking.

"Miss Lane." Her head snapped up at John's voice. "You need to leave, Miss Lane." She shook her head and said, "No, I'm not leaving him." John's serious face betrayed the gravity of the situation, and he tried to persuade her. "Miss Lane, please. He-" She interrupted him. "I know who he is and I'm not leaving." The finality in her tone told him she wouldn't listen to any more arguments. She turned back to Clark, his face still so pale and covered in blood. "I knew it was you, Smallville, I knew it was you," she said, her voice breaking on a sob.

Clark was trying to say something, but she couldn't make out what it was. John leaned over him and said "It's alright, Kal-el, I'll do it," before shooting up into the sky. She felt completely helpless, not knowing what to do but knowing that she had to do _something_, because she would not allow Clark to die. She pulled off her scarf and used it to put some pressure on the wound slashed across his chest, trying to hold Clark upright at the same time. He was still gasping for air and seemed to be scrabbling for something. She sat back a little to give him room, instantly regretting it when his hands closed over the top of the dagger in his gut and pulled it out.

Clark groaned in pain, his body arching and twisting: his breathing had turned shallow. The dagger clanged on the ground beside her, and she looked down at it. It was long and lethal, and a sickening memory flooded her mind. She had seen it before. And what was Clark doing, pulling it out? Experience had taught her that it wasn't a good idea to do that.

John reappeared beside them, putting a hand on Clark's shoulder. "Hold on, Clark. It's almost dawn" he told him. Clark nodded and reached out a shaky hand to her, wrapping it round her shoulder. He was trying to speak and she had to lean closer to him to hear what he was saying. "It's alright, Lois" he whispered. "I'll be alright." She wanted to believe him, but he was so hurt.

She hadn't noticed the sky getting lighter until now. Dark clouds still loomed overhead, but the sun's rays burst through them, flooding the street with light. It surrounded Clark and she literally couldn't believe her eyes: his wounds were healing up. The cut on his cheek and the deeper cut on his chest had closed over, right in front of her. His breathing was normal and the colour had returned to his face. He looked…well. Whole. As if he had never been injured or hurt in the first place. He stood up on steady legs and raised his face to the sky. She could only watch in awe.

His head snapped away in the direction of something she couldn't hear. He had to go. He closed the distance between them and held her for a long moment, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Be safe," she whispered, and he nodded in acknowledgement. She blinked, and he was gone.

* * *

It had stopped raining, and she started to shiver. Out of the corner of her eye she could see John pick up the dagger, but she wasn't paying attention. Her mind was being assaulted from all sides with fragments of memories she didn't know she had, and it was making her dizzy. She could feel John near her, but her attention was focused on the images she was trying to piece together.

A warm hand landed on her shoulder, and then everything was clear and calm. She looked at John in surprise. "How did you… how did you do that?" she asked, unable to keep the incredulity out of her voice. He shrugged. "I'm more than just a policeman" he said simply. "But what was that? What did I see?" she asked, shaking her head to try and make sense of the images in her mind. "You went to the future, Miss Lane, a future where you were what made the difference. Clark sent you back because he needed you," was John's answer, which made absolutely no sense whatsoever and yet was the only explanation she could accept.

Words were echoing in her head.

"_You are the one he will need…he is the one you will need"_

"_I just knew, you were the one I've always needed"_

"And that _did_ make all the difference, I think," John continued. She could only listen, overwhelmed. "He thinks of you constantly. I can hear it, even when I'm not trying. His destiny is important, but you are what he can't live without." But that couldn't be right, not when he had tried to say goodbye earlier, and in the barn too, she realised. "Then why did he try to leave?" she wanted to know. John's answer came accompanied with a warm smile, with such calm authority that she trusted him completely. "Go home, Miss Lane. He'll find you."

He walked away, leaving her standing in the street, emotion buffeting her like a wave.

* * *

The sun was warm. He had felt the pain melt away before the wounds had closed, and miraculously he was whole. He opened his eyes to see John studying him. "You truly are unique, Clark" his companion said, his voice seeming a lot louder in the still air. He smiled and lifted his face back towards the sun, basking in its light, such a contrast from the street and the rain and the fear. Speaking of which… "Lois" he said, his eyes snapping open. He had to go to her, to find her. Was she alright?

John clapped a hand on his shoulder and tried to reassure him. "She's fine, Clark. She went home to wait on you." He breathed out, the thought of her alone weighing on him. "She knows about you, you know," John was saying. He could only nod, remembering her eyes, her face, her touch, wishing she was here. "The things we do out of duty are important, Clark, but the things we do for love…well, they mean more than anything else."

"I have to go to her" he said, decisive and certain. John nodded, and they took off, the peace of the rooftop restored.

* * *

It wasn't until she was sitting on the couch in front of the fire that she realised she had interpreted John's command to 'go home' as 'go to the Kent farm'. But it _was_ home, this place, more than the Talon or the army bases she had grown up on or the house where she remembered her mother best had ever been. Shelby was sitting beside her, faithfully waiting on Clark to come home, and she felt suddenly sad that this was what Clark came home to – an empty house and a dog. But not this time, she thought, the idea of her sort-of boyfriend finding her here cheering her enormously. And not a moment too soon either, because she realised she was still holding her scarf, covered in Clark's blood. She threw the scarf in the fire watching it blaze. She didn't want to be reminded.

The house was quiet, an oasis of calm after the literal and metaphorical storm that had swept over her. Finally she had a moment to think in a straight line, without interruptions or worries. The images ran in a sequence – the _Daily Planet_ building, a red sun, a prison, Clark, Oliver, Chloe, Tess, Zod. A fight, Chloe dying, Clark stabbed and bleeding on a street.

Clark's hands and lips making her forget her own name as he pulled her to a mattress on the floor.

She felt the heat curling through her insides. All those times she had assumed her dreams were hinting at something she wanted to happen, when in truth she was _remembering_, her memories stored away in a box, waiting to be opened. She scratched behind Shelby's ears thoughtfully, murmuring "What do you know, Shelbs? I like future Clark as much as I like present Clark".

She hadn't realised she'd fallen asleep till she woke up in a completely different place to where she had been. Blinking and testing her limbs, she looked round and discovered a number of things; it was mid-morning, judging by the light coming in through the window, she was no longer in possession of her boots or her jacket, she was almost definitely in Clark's bedroom, and a lean muscled arm was clamped round her midriff. The owner of said arm was to her left, stretched out beside her and also minus a pair of boots. His face was streaked with dirt and dried blood, his t-shirt ripped to shreds. But he was here.

He was here. He was alive. He was alright.

Wanting to wake him up and yell at him for scaring the life out of her, and also wanting to let him sleep for a while, she opted to take a shower. She could smell sweat and rain and fear lingering on her from the night before, and she couldn't have a proper conversation with Clark like that. She found some clothes she had left from previous overnight stays and had a shower in record time, drying her hair downstairs so Clark wouldn't hear it. Hungry, she pottered about the kitchen, stopping to stare outside when the sunlight made the kitchen sparkle as its rays bounced off different surfaces. She had been amazed at the effect of the sun on Clark. How did it heal him like that? There were so many things that she understood now, but so many questions that needed answered. She wasn't sure where to start, and she wasn't sure how to approach Clark after everything that had happened.

A sound behind her made her whip round in surprise. Clark was standing in the kitchen, dressed in a dark jumper with the sleeves pushed up his arms and dark jeans. His eyes had never been more blue. How had she not put these pieces together sooner? Unable to stand being so far away from him, after everything, she did the only thing she could, and rushed over to him, burying her face in his chest.

* * *

She was here, after everything. With his arms wrapped tightly around her, he resolved that he was never letting go of her, ever. Something wet on his chest caught his attention, and he pulled back to see that she was crying. She _never_ cried, and yet there were tears streaming down her face. Leaning in, he kissed her tears away, then dropped kisses on her eyelids and forehead before rubbing her nose with his and kissing her lips as gently as he could, his hands cupping her face.

"Are you ok?" she asked, her voice hoarse. He nodded and wiped away a stray tear with his thumb. She pulled his jumper and t-shirt up to run her fingers over the places where there should be wounds. He tensed under her touch, so responsive to even the lightest of touches, because it was _her_. Her eyes roved over his chest, making sure that he really was alright, and it was all he could do _not_ to kiss her again. She dropped his jumper down, inspection completed, and stood looking at him for a long moment. He couldn't tell what she was thinking - her face, usually so readable, was giving nothing away.

She took a deep breath, and he waited for whatever she was about to say. He had seen her react to being told his secret before, but those were under different circumstances, and with fewer injuries. "Whatever you had to do…with the Book of Rao, is it done?" she asked, staring up at him anxiously. "It's done" he replied, sliding his hands round her lower back and adding, "the threat to the world is gone."

Her next question was very simple. "This is what you do, isn't it, save the world?" He tried to answer but she stopped his words with a finger to his lips. Questions poured out of her. "I know, you're the Blur, and you have abilities? But how did you get stabbed? And what did that have to do with Zod? And the sun heals you? Your friends are cool, I gotta admit, I didn't know John had abilities too. Oh, and I went to the future, Clark. Those three weeks that I couldn't remember, I was in the future. How did that happen?" She finally took a breath, and looked up at him, and this time he did kiss her. "It's a long story" he murmured, invoking her wrath. "If you think for one minute you can get out of tha-" He put a hand over her mouth stopping her rant and told her, "You'll need coffee," knowing that he had to tell her everything.

"I don't want coffee" she said.

"Why not?"

"Because if I turn my back and go over there to make coffee, you might disappear."

* * *

Admitting her fear didn't cause him to laugh or even smile. Instead he was looking at her with the same gentle intensity that she had seen the day they stood beside Chloe's grave. He took her hand and walked across the kitchen to flick the machine on. As they waited, they stood close to each other. She bunched his jumper in her hands and breathed him in: two pairs of eyes searched the other for answers to all the questions they had.

"I have to apologise" he said, sincerity in every word. "Me too" was her reply as she leaned her head on his shoulder. She was quite content to stand her with his arms around her because really, where else would she want to be?

There was a knock on the door and he turned away to answer it, giving her a look that said it was alright to let go, because he was coming back. The visitor was John, greeting both of them with a nod and a smile, and she was glad to see him. It made everything _real_, the street and the rain and Clark. He reached out to Clark and handed him the Book of Rao with the words "I took it as you asked. It belongs to you, forgive me for not giving it to you earlier". Clark thanked him, and she could see the respect and admiration between the two of them. John continued, "I've watched over you since you came to this planet, Clark, and I believe your father would be proud of what you did."

Came to this planet? But that would make Clark… her head spun a little more, and another question was added to the list of things they had to talk about. She was so engrossed in trying to figure that piece of information out that she missed John's departure, and it was Clark's hand on her shoulder that made her look up in surprise.

"So….other planet?" she asked, trying not to show that she was dying of curiousity. "You know that long story we were talking about? It starts there," was his reply, a smile on his face. The coffee was ready, and they went out to the porch to talk in the early morning light.

As the sun rose higher on a different world, it's saviour told the woman he loved the story of a baby in a spaceship, and a man without a soul, and a kiss before dying.

_**Fin**_


End file.
